


Learning to Share

by Snooty_Alpaca



Series: Thorin's Life [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Good Uncle Thorin, Thorin has PTSD, Uncle Thorin, Young Fíli, Young Fíli and Kíli, Young Kíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooty_Alpaca/pseuds/Snooty_Alpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli learns to share his toy soldiers with Kíli, but he needs help from Uncle Thorin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Share

**Author's Note:**

> Fíli and Kíli’s human equivalent ages in this one-shot are 7 ½ and 4.

**T.A. 2872, Summer – Ered Luin: Thorin’s Halls**

The orange glow of the early evening sun pours through the west facing windows fills the sitting room with a warm and comforting light. The fire is lit, but Thorin banked it so the coals only emit their own warm glow. Dinner was several hours ago and Thorin is lounging on the couch slowly reading a book. Right now reading is slow because his attention is not completely focused on the carefully handwritten and bound pages that he holds open in one hand.

The shutters are flung wide, a cool breeze cools the home that was warmed up by the blazing sun all day, and the oven as Dís prepared the small family’s supper. The orange glow of the sun filters through the cream-colored curtains that Dís keeps painstakingly clean despite the messes that her sons and her brother create on a nearly daily basis. The curtains flutter gently in the breeze. The undulate cloth keeps catching his eyes and drawing them away from the black and white pages. He gazes at the vibrant colors of a summer sunset for several calming moments before forcing himself back to his reading only to be drawn away by the curtains again. It has been almost an hour, he has only read about five pages, and of those five pages, he is not sure how much he remembers.

Thorin is also supposed to be watching one of his young nephews. However, Fíli needs much less looking after than his younger brother Kíli. Even when Fíli was the same age as Kíli is now he was less rambunctious, he was less adventurous, and he was quieter and more bookish. With the birth of his younger brother he lost some of his more introspective ways to join in his younger brother’s mischief making, but he was still much more self-contained.

Dís is busy wrestling her youngest into a bath. Kíli had spent the better part of his day escaping the careful watch of his mother and aunt to play in a large mud puddle that formed outside of their front door after the heavy rains that took place all of last night and well in to the morning. Thorin smiles. He is sure that there is not a single part of Kíli’s body that is free of dirt or scum, and he is very glad that he is not the one in charge of bath time. Kíli has a habit of soaking whoever was trying to bath him. Dís would often emerge wetter than her youngest son would.

Thorin looks over at his charge for the evening. Fíli is sitting cross-legged on the floor. The orange light of the evening sun glints and gleams off Fíli’s golden mane. The young boy leans over – head bend – with his hair hanging over his face. He is carefully organizing the toy soldiers into orderly rows. Thorin and Vrílí, Fíli and Kíli’s father, had spent many nights staying up late to have all of the soldiers completed for Fíli’s birth-day. Fíli had slept with two of the soldiers – one carved by his father and the other by his uncle – under his pillow or clutched in his sweaty, chubby fists for months afterwards. Seeing Fíli playing with his soldiers always fills Thorin with a since of pride of his work and of Vrílí’s work. Now, however, that pride is tinged with sadness since Vrílí’s death. Fíli had lined his soldiers up around the sitting room. He refused to put them away and he had cried inconsolably when Thorin had put all of the toys back in their box after Dís lost her temper and had shouted about the continuous mess that the sitting room was.

Eventually Fíli had started playing with his soldiers again. It began slowly at first, but worked back up to full-scale battles again. This time Fíli has two sides – two armies – facing off against one another between the couches in the sitting room. Some of the soldiers were placed on the stone step of the fireplace; some were placed beneath the edges of the couches. Fíli had pushed his uncle’s feet out of the way and onto the couch so that he could place the soldiers there.

“Why under the couch, Fíli?” Thorin inquires. He peers over the edge at the golden head that is bent in the seriousness of his play.

Fíli does not look up as he answers. “They’re safer there. They’re the archers. But,” he gestures vaguely to the other army, “here they are protected from the other army’s archers.”

Thorin smiles at the boy. Strategy – a good thing for him to be developing at his age. The clack-clack of the placement of the soldier’s comes to an abrupt stop and Fíli sits back on his heels. A proud smile spreads across the lad’s face, as he surveys his work that spreads across the sitting room floor.

Thorin leans over, places his book on the floor, and examines his nephew’s hard work. The red army and the blue army – Dís had painted them when Fíli complained that he could not tell his army from his father’s army – face off with one army positioned on the high ground of the fireplace but the other with the shelter of the couch.

“Uncle ‘Rin, will you play with me?” Fíli asks tentatively with twinkling blue eyes.

Thorin glances over the soldiers that his nephew has painstakingly set out. His nephews question surprises him. Fíli has never asked Thorin to play soldiers with him before. Playing with the soldiers was always something that Fíli did with his father. Since Vrílí’s death, Fíli plays alone. He plays both sides more often than note ending in a tie against himself.

Thorin rarely played soldiers. He was only a little older than Fíli is now when his home was destroyed and taken from him. Nevertheless, he does remember playing a handful of times with Frerin. The games usually ended with Frerin throwing one or more of his soldiers at his elder brother before tackling him. Frerin, by that point, having decided that he had a better chance of winning through physical means.

After the coming of Smaug, any playing at soldier and the learning of strategy came in a much to real fashion. Thorin learned how to protect vulnerable members of a party soon after the fall of Erebor. The company had been traveling southwards towards Rohan when they were set upon by orcs. Thrór had ordered the men to surround the women and children. When Thorin tried to join the ranks of the fighting men Thráin shoved his eldest son backwards into the arms of his mother with the words ‘You’re to watch over your mother in case the line fails’. At the time he had considered himself grown, but looking back, he sees how wrong he was to think that he should stand in line with his father and grandfather. The line that day held and he had learned how to protect the vulnerable.

_‘Thank Mahal that Fíli gets to learn this way rather than learning through experience,’_ Thorin thinks as he looks at the battalions of soldiers and for a moment he sees real dwarves with armor glinting in the sunlight rather than wooden soldiers painted in bright colors. He moves swiftly off the couch to sit on the floor with Fíli. “Of course I’ll play with you, Fee,” Thorin ruffles Fíli’s hair as he speaks.

Thorin cannot refuse Fíli. When he returned several years before with word of the death of his sister’s husband and his nephews’ father, he had vowed to his sister and the two young boys to be as their father in all ways that he could manage. Thorin had not left for extensive amounts of time since he returned that winter. A few weeks at a time was the most that he would leave his dwindling family. A dwindling family that he feels responsible for – responsible for the dwindling and the maintaining of the royal family.

Fíli begins moving his soldiers and vocalizing his orders to his men. Thorin grins at the authority in Fíli’s young voice. An authority that he has seen turned on Kíli of late when the younger did things that displeased the elder. Thorin keeps his troops on the defensive.

Thorin turns from the play when he hears Dís’ footsteps enter from the doorway that is at his back. She has Kíli balanced on her hip and while her hair is damp she is nowhere near as wet at she has been sometimes following Kíli’s weekly bath. “Sister,” Thorin smiles good-naturedly, “did Kíli try to make you swim with the fishes again?”

Dís smiles back. “Aye, that he did, but he got soap in his eyes for all of his trouble, the wee rascal.” She drops heavily onto the couch – on the very edges so as not to disturb the ‘battle’ taking place – with Kíli in her lap.

Thorin looks over at his other nephew. The chubby little boy’s dark hair is beginning to dry and curling around his rosy round cheeks. As soon as Dís is seated Kíli jumps to get out of her lap. Kíli is dressed in his loose-fitting pajamas. The top is too big, the neck hangs off his one shoulder, and there are wet spots littering his top.

“Oh no you don’t little one!” Dís snatches her youngest son and pulls him close. “You need to let me comb your hair, Kíli.”

Kíli frowns but settles in his mother’s lap. Clearly much of his fight for the evening has been used. The dark-haired dwarfling tugs at the end of his tunic waiting impatiently for his mother to finish combing his hair. He winces and his frown deepens whenever the comb encounters a tangle in his wild hair. “But Ma…” Kíli whines and squirms on his mother’s lap.

“I’ll be done in a minute, Kíli,” Dís soothes her youngest.

“And then you can help me beat your brother,” Thorin adds with a grin. He tweaks one of Kíli’s bare toes. Kíli squeals with laughter and yanks his feet back and out of Thorin’s reach. Then he sits still, watches the soldiers’ movements intently, and stops squirming.

Dís smiles at her brother and mouths ‘Thank you’ over the top of Kíli’s head. Fíli has pointedly been ignoring the exchange, as he carefully makes sure that all of his soldier’s stand in perfect rows.

“’Rin!” Kíli shouts as soon as Dís releases her youngest. Kíli runs across the room to fall against Thorin’s broad back.

“Yes, Kíli?” Thorin turns to glance over his shoulder. All he sees is the top of Kíli’s still damp hair.

“Uncle ‘Rin!” Kíli wraps his arms as far as he can around his uncle’s back.

Thorin smiles as a warm feeling spreads through his chest at Kíli’s warm, squishy, and slightly damp hug. “What are you doing, you little goblin?” Thorin reaches over his shoulder to seize the back of Kíli’s nightshirt and haul the little boy up and over his shoulder. Kíli shrieks in delight as he falls into Thorin’s lap. His shrieks of laughter continue as Thorin begins to tickle him despite Kíli’s shouted and giggled protests.

Thorin only stops tickling his youngest nephew only when the chubby boy is gasping for breath and hardly able to breath due to laughter. He lives for moments like this. Content family moments like this. It is true that he would prefer that they be living well off in Erebor, but, they are happy here. Fíli and Kíli are thriving here and not in Erebor. Their childhoods are far more carefree than his and Frerin’s childhoods and for that, he is grateful. Their community in the Blue Mountains is home and his is glad for it. Whenever he is away, he misses the low mountains with their pine trees.

Kíli squirms around so that he is sitting snuggled into Thorin’s lap. He sits in the low point created by Thorin’s cross-legged position. Kíli reaches up to run his pudgy fingers through Thorin’s short bread. His fingers wander across Thorin’s jawline and neck.

“Yes, Kíli?”

Kíli does not respond but just continues to run his still damp fingers across his uncle’s face and into Thorin’s hair. He runs his fingers through Thorin’s long hair. Thorin sighs happily. It is not often that someone plays with his hair. Kíli begins to wind some of Thorin’s hair around his fingers. He wraps his hand around one of Thorin’s braids and tugs on it so that he can examine the intricate detail on the bead closer. Thorin tilts and lowers his head to aid Kíli’s examination of the braid and bead.

Thorin turns to look at his sister. She smooths her dress and watches the three of them with a content smile on her face. “Who’s winning?”

Thorin opens his mouth to answer but Fíli beats him to it. “I am,” the blonde boy says seriously.

“Oh really?” Dis says with an amused note to her voice. She meets Thorin’s eyes and raises a single eyebrow at him. Thorin responds by lowering his eyebrows in a frown. Fíli moves his soldiers with a click-click.

“Yep.” Thorin moves his soldiers awkwardly as he moves around Kíli who cannot manage to sit still. “How was your day?” Thorin inquires of his sister.

Dís shrugs. Fíli went to his lessons with Balin; I was told that he did well. I managed to keep Kíli from eating anything that was non-edible and make dinner,” she chuckles softly, “I’d say it was a pretty good day all in all.” She pauses. “And what about your day, khâzash?”

Thorin grunts in response.

“Thorin.”

“It was fine,” Thorin says with a frown. “I did not get as much work done as I needed to get done today. I was at the forge this morning and I did not finish the chain that I was making for the man that came through a few weeks ago because Balin came to me after Fíli’s lessons with a matter that needed resolved rather quickly,” he finishes with a grumble.

“What sort of matter?”

“Bureaucratic nightmare of a problem. It had to do with our correspondence to our kin in Ered Mithrin. They want metalwork from us but they refuse to pay a fair price for it even though we transport it all of those miles – across the Misty Mountains – to them for less than what it costs us. I had to spend the rest of the day talking about it with Balin and the rest of council to figure out how we’re going to deal with it.”

“What did you decide?” Dís asks as she pulls her feet up and tucks them up under her skirts.

“We need to keep our relationship with them as good as possible. It’s already suffering as it is. None of their council members likes me and they’ve refused more concrete ways of cementing our relationship. Dáin likes us just fine but the rest of our kin have demonstrated distaste and dislike for us.” Thorin runs his free hand through his hair after he finishes moving one of his soldiers. “We just have to sell our work for less than it’s worth or risk alienating them,” he finishes bitterly. This is not what he wanted to think about. He had spent his walk home purposefully shutting out the politics that he had to deal with all day. “But now, I just want to focus on this,” he gestures to the toys, Fíli, and Kíli.

Dís nods, reaches over to squeeze Thorin’s shoulder, and rubs his back for a moment before sitting back on the couch to watch her boys and the fire. Thorin turns all of his attention back to the game with Fíli who is beating him quite soundly.

Thorin taps one of his soldiers against his chin absently as he considers his next move. Kíli grabs for the soldier, “’Rin!”

“Do you want one of your toys, Kee?”

Kíli shakes his head vigorously before he leans forward and grabs one of the soldiers from Thorin’s army.

“Kee!” Fíli shouts and rips the toy from Kíli’s hands. “No!”

“Fíli!” Thorin and Dís scold simultaneously. Kíli begins to cry loudly and dramatically. Fat tears roll down Kíli’s round cheeks.

“Why can’t he play with one of the soldiers? It is only one and there are so many of them,” Dís asks as she looks sternly at her eldest son.

“They’re mine!” Fíli shouts at his mother angrily. “Adâd and Uncle Thorin made them for _me_!” Fíli frowns. “Kíli gets _everything_ else. These are mine. Just mine!” His blue eyes darken as he scowls at his mother and uncle and knocks a bunch of the soldiers over angrily.

“Fíli,” Dís starts to stand.

“Dís, I can handle this.” Thorin reaches out and rubs Dís’ knee gently.

Dís turns her blue eyes on her brother before sighing and sitting back down.

“Fíli,” Thorin begins as he strokes Kíli’s head attempting to soothe the little boy. “You must be nice to your little brother.”

“Why?” Fíli scowls and clutches the toy to his chest.

“He’s your younger brother. You have to take care of him. I took care of my brother. It’s your responsibility. Besides, he’s not going to hurt your toy. And it’s one of my soldiers so it doesn’t affect your army.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Fíli pouts. “They’re mine,” he persists petulantly.

“I know that they’re yours,” Thorin soothes. “But I’m sure that Kili would like it if you would let him play with you.”

“But he doesn’t play right!”

“And how is he supposed to learn if you will never let him play with you?” Thorin asks raising his eyebrows. “If you let him play and teach him how to play then you’ll always have someone to play with. That is what brothers are for. They’re someone that you can always play with.”

“But he’s a baby…”

“Not forever. He’s the same age now as you were when you got the soldiers. Besides,” Thorin continues, “what would your father say if he knew that you were refusing to play with Kíli?” Thorin looks down at the squirming, crying dwarfling in his lap.

“Thorin,” Dís says her voice low with a note of warning.

Fíli squirms uncomfortably. He looks down at the soldier that he has clutched tightly in his fists. He runs his forefinger over the tiny carved features of the little soldier’s face. The blue paint of the soldier’s blue eyes has mostly worn off over his years of playing with the toys. He slowly turns the toy over to look at the rune that was carved into the base of the soldier. A ‘v’ run, the first letter of his father’s name. He slowly traces his finger of the four lines that make up the rune. Tears prick Fíli’s eyes before he quickly dashes them away. His father had carved this soldier. He picks up another one of the soldiers and traces the ‘t’ rune it it’s base. Fíli’s dark scowl changes into a sad frown.

Fíli remembers his father’s excited face as he opened the carefully wrapped package on his birthday. He remembers his father helping him set up the soldiers for the first time and teaching him how to play with them. Fíli had stayed up late – until well after dark – recreating battles on the floor of the sitting room. He remembers crying when his mother insisted that it was time for him to go to bed. Fíli looks over at his little brother and remembers how happy he was when he was learning how to play with his father and he feels sad that Kíli will never have that. Fíli feels sad that he had memories of their father that Kíli will never have.

“Here, Kee,” Fíli stretches across the battlefield and presses one of the ‘v’ soldiers into Kíli’s chubby fists. “We set them up like this,” Fíli says as he begins reorganizing the battlefield so that he can play with his baby brother.

Thorin moves Kíli out of his lap. Fíli moves so that he sits next to his dark haired brother. Thorin looks over at his sister and the two of them share smiles over the heads of the two dwarflings. Thorin ruffles the hair of both his nephews before moving to sit on the couch next to his younger sister. The sun has further set. The sky outside of the windows are a deep purple and blue now with twinkling stars beginning to appear over the roofs of the homes in Ered Luin. Thorin wraps his arm around Dís’ shoulders and she leans against him as they watch the two boys begin to play side by side.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one-shot! Comments will be greatly appreciated!


End file.
